


Faith

by indiefic



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America never happened, F/M, Peggy and Steve together in the 1940s, Skinny!Steve, dimension hopping Peggy Carter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-07-11 19:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7067773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indiefic/pseuds/indiefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Due to circumstances unknown, Peggy finds herself in a world where Schmidt never existed, Erskine was killed before the start of the war, and there was no Project Rebirth.  She's convinced she's entered one of the rings of hell until she stumbles across someone with a familiar face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Steggy positivity week on Tumblr
> 
> #steggyweek2K16
> 
> Day 06: Skinny Steve and/or PeggyCap

Peggy should have been paying more attention, but she wasn’t.  The wanker ran right into her, sending her clutch flying across the damp pavement.  Peggy watched the contents scattered to the ground, as if in slow motion.  This was the perfect topper to a perfectly horrid day.  She was trying to make a go of it.  She really was.  And considering her circumstances, she thought that spoke very well of her.  

 

She blamed Howard.  Mostly because she didn’t know who else to blame and when completely bizarre and unexplainable events happened, it was generally a safe bet that Howard was involved.  Not that she’d seen Howard recently.  He didn’t seem to be too closely involved with the SSR in this world.  

 

_ In this world _ .  

 

That phrase would haunt her for the rest of her life.  

 

She had no idea how she ended up here.  She had no idea where _ here  _ even was, in relation to the world she knew.  Or how.  One minute she was at the office, talking to the SSR scientists.  The next thing she knew, she was here, in this world that was so similar, and so completely foreign.

 

She thought her life was enough of a farce as it was, but clearly the universe had other ideas.  She had done her best, by God.  Pulled herself up by her bootstraps.  She saw the war through to the bitter end.  She put on a brave face and she processed the paperwork from Captain America’s disappearance, as though he were any other soldier, and not an achingly personal loss.  She tried to throw herself into her work, accepting an appointment to the SSR office in New York.  The SSR, however, was less excited at the prospect of her help.  At every turn, she was shoved aside, degraded, insulted.  It was nothing she hadn’t dealt with before.  But she found it especially difficult to take in the wake of her war career.  She had been a respected, valued member of the team.  And now she was back to square one.

 

Actually, now she had regressed even farther than square one.  

 

In this new world, she was still Peggy Carter.  She worked for the SSR in New York following the end of World War II.  That much was right, was consistent with the life she had lived.  

 

But everything else about this world was wrong.  As far as Peggy could tell, there had been no Johann Schmidt in this world.  No Hydra.  No Project Rebirth.  Dr. Erskine was a scientist who had been killed in Germany before the war even started.  

 

There had been no Captain America.

 

This world’s Peggy Carter had been part of the SSR.  She ran ops during the war, working closely with General Phillips.  But, to Peggy, it felt as if a huge section of her life and identity had been removed with surgical precision.  She felt so confused, so conflicted.  She was still an Agent, still part of the SSR.  But so much else that she’d come to define herself by was simply ... gone.  Leading to any number of highly uncomfortable existential crises.  

 

She looked down at her things, scattered on the sidewalk, watching as a passerby stepped in the middle of her shopping list.  

 

“Hey, watch it, ya jerk!” he barked.

 

Peggy startled as the newcomer bent over and gathered up her things.  He was hunched down so she could only see the back of his head, but she knew what she would see when he turned and the pit of her stomach felt like ice.  She didn’t have to wait long.  He straightened up and turned to face her.  

 

She was still staring down at him, looking into the face of Steve Rogers.  

 

“Here ya go, ma’am,” he said.  “Sorry about that.  Some guys have no manners.”

 

She opened her mouth to say something, but found she had no idea what to say.  She just stared at him.   _ Steve _ .  Skinny Steve.  Before he received Erskine’s formula. Here, in New York.  

 

He was blinking up at her, but his expression was quickly sliding from polite attention into concern.  Reflexively, he reached up and brushed his hair across his forehead.  “Ma’am?” he asked.

 

“I, uh, thank you,” she said with a start, taking the items, acutely aware of the places where his cold fingers brushed against hers.  

 

“I - “  She stopped, looking at him intently.  “ _ Thank you _ .”

 

He narrowed his gaze at her in a way she’d seen a thousand times before, though typically it hadn’t been leveled at her.  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked carefully.

 

She frantically fought for something to say, anything to prevent him from walking out of her life without a trace.  “Yes,” she said.  “I was heading in to get a cup of coffee, perhaps you’d like to join me, as my way of saying thank you.  It’s the least I can do.”  She was absurdly proud of herself for thinking that up.  It was almost as if she were trained in espionage.

 

He looked taken aback.  “Oh, no,” he said.  “It’s no problem.  I’m happy to help.”

 

“Please,” she said quietly.  “It would be my pleasure.”

 

He looked so confused.  “Uh, sure,” he said, making it sound like more of a question than a statement.  He turned and quickly looked over his shoulder, making sure she was following.  He opened the door to the cafe, holding it for her.  

 

Peggy walked inside and slid into a booth, watching as Steve did the same.  He was obviously nervous, fidgeting.  The waitress walked over to the table and they both ordered coffee.

 

“I’m Peggy,” she said, extending her hand.  “Peggy Carter.”

 

“Steve Rogers,” he said.  He looked around, awkwardly, and Peggy was reminded of when it used to be like this, when he used to not be able to get two words out.  She’d found it adorable at the time and had teased him, so gently.  But now, she found she couldn't.  She could barely think of a thing to say to him.  Because she was as nervous as him.  She had no idea what to say or do.  She  _ never _ had that problem with men.  She vainly fought for something to discuss.

 

“So, Steve,” she said, painfully aware of how awkward it was, “I’m still somewhat new to New York.  And I take it from your accent, that you’re not.  So tell me, what should I know about the city?”

 

He smiled at her, a blush creeping across his cheekbones.  “Avoid the tourist traps,” he said sagely, no hint of the Brooklyn accent.  “They’re a ripoff.”  

 

“So what should I do in lieu of the tourist traps?” she asked, smiling.

 

The waitress brought the coffee, giving them both a moment to gather their wits.

 

“Get out,” he said.  “See the city, the boroughs.  Don’t stay in Manhattan.”

 

“I take it you’re not from Manhattan, then,” she said.

 

“ _ No _ ,” he shook his head, clearly offended at the idea. “Brooklyn.”

 

She sat back in the booth, studying him as she took a drink of coffee.  It was uncanny how much his voice and eyes were the same, while the rest of him was so different.  “So what brings you to Manhattan today, then?”

 

“Uh,” he shrugged, frowning.  “Job interview.”

 

“Did it go well?” she asked.

 

“I got an offer,” he said. “Not exactly the offer I was looking for, but it may have some potential.”  She understood.  With the returning GIs, jobs were becoming scarce again.

 

“And what would you be doing at this mysterious job?” she asked.

 

“A whole lot of fetching, I think,” he said, clearly unimpressed.  “But the organization ... it’s good.  It’s a step in the right direction.  I think I could make a difference.”

 

“And what is this organization?” she asked.

 

He stared at her for a long moment.  “The phone company,” he finally said.

 

Peggy smiled, God he was an awful liar.  But that was an interesting development.  Steve Rogers had secured an underwhelming job offer from the SSR.  

 

“Well, I hope you seriously consider taking the job,” she said.  “Because I work at the phone company too.”  She winked at him.

 

* * *

 

All weekend, Peggy couldn’t get Steve out of her head.  Perhaps it was because she had spent so much of the last year purposely avoiding thinking of him.  But for whatever reason, even when she learned that there had been no Captain America in this world, she hadn’t allowed herself to consider that there was still a Steve Rogers.  Even now, days later, she struggled to wrap her mind around the reality.  This world had seemed like some perverse purgatory.  But now ... she had no idea what to think.  All she knew was that she felt something other than numbness and crushing grief for the first time in a year.  Steve was alive.  And whole.  And living in New York.

 

Their chat at the cafe had started a little rocky, but by the second cup of coffee, they’d found a rhythm.  Of course, when it was time to go, the awkwardness came rushing back.  Peggy gave Steve her address and number, in case he needed anything.  He hadn’t been able to return the favor as he was currently looking for a place in Manhattan.  He blushed and stammered through their farewells.  She knew that she confused him, which broke her heart more than a little.  He clearly wasn’t used to being hit on.  

 

While Steve had never been precisely comfortable with the attention he tended to garner, he did become somewhat adept at deflecting.  She assumed the USO tour was mostly to thank for that.  He definitely became accustomed to attracting female attention, wanted or otherwise.  This Steve, however, had not developed that skill.  And she knew that she had come on strong, very strong.

 

Peggy thought perhaps she should feel embarrassed about her conduct, but she found she couldn’t.  Steve had her attention.  She could pretend that she simply wanted to get to know him - and she did.  But her intentions were not limited to friendship.  And she really didn’t want to give him the impression that they were, even if it made him blush.

 

As she sat at the table at the Griffith, watching Wilma manage to stuff an entire quart of mashed potatoes into her handbag, Peggy finally allowed herself to acknowledge something she hadn’t been able to admit to herself for the last year - how very much she missed  _ Steve _ .  She liked him, a lot.  Speaking with him over coffee only reinforced that knowledge.  It reminded her that long before she had lusted over Steve Rogers, she had genuinely enjoyed his company.  She missed the camaraderie she’d known at his side, missed his humor and empathy and compassion.  Missed how steadfast he was about everything.  And all of those qualities were inherent to Steve, completely apart from any physical enhancements he experienced from the serum.  They were all clearly evident in the man she’d treated to coffee.

 

But meeting him again, now, a Steve who had never been a soldier, Peggy was aware that those feelings of lust weren’t contingent on his soldier’s body.  She wanted  _ Steve _ .  In a very carnal sense, regardless of the fact that he was now shorter than her again.  His eyes were the same blue, framed by those gloriously thick lashes.  His full lips were the same.  

 

She wanted to taste them to see if he tasted the same.  She knew he would.

 

* * *

 

Peggy got to the office early on Monday morning.  Sadly, the day was indistinguishable from any other day in that she spent her time fetching files, making coffee and blatantly inserting herself where she wasn’t wanted.  She caught glimpses of Steve, but they hadn’t interacted yet and she decided to give him some time to feel out the SSR before she went in pursuit.  Typically, she wasn’t the pursuer - she rarely needed to be - but needs must.

 

“Carter,” Thompson yelled.  “I need a file pulled.”

 

“Pull it yourself,” Peggy snapped back, not even bothering to look up.  “You seem like you’re very adept at pulling things.”

 

She glanced up, only to find Steve staring at her.  Realizing he’d overheard her jab at Thompson, she felt her cheeks warm.  She hadn’t intended to be quite so saucy in front of him, right out of the gate.

 

Jack walked over, completely ignoring Steve, staring at Peggy, hands on his hips.  “I’m not kiddin’, Marge.  I need a file.”  He smacked a piece of paper down on her desk and left.

 

“And I’m not kidding either,” she said darkly, taking the scrap of paper and tossing it in her trashcan.  “Do it yourself.”

 

Jack turned around and came marching back.  

 

“I think maybe I can help,” Steve said, picking up the piece of paper.  “It’ll give me a chance to get the lay of the land.”

 

Jack clearly wanted to argue, to force Peggy to get the file for him, but he huffed under his breath and turned away.  Peggy stood up and snatched the paper back from Steve, frowning.  She tossed it in the trash.  “Don’t reward his brutish behavior,” she said.  “It only encourages him to think he can force anyone into doing anything he wants.”

 

Steve looked at her and smiled.  “I don’t like bullies either, Agent Carter,” he said.  “But I do need to figure out where things are.  It might be good practice.”

 

Peggy frowned and rolled her eyes.  He picked up the paper again and she said, “It’s Peggy.  Follow me.”

 

Peggy showed Steve to the file room, and gave him an overview of how things were organized, which, honestly, was rather haphazard.  There was a constant inflow of files, as projects from the war were decommissioned and sent to them.  Peggy was on tiptoe, reaching for a file box, when she caught sight of Steve staring at her chest.  Their eyes met and his cheeks were beet red.  Trying to bite back a smile, she pulled the file box down and moved it to the table, removing the lid and sorting through it.

 

“So, did you find a place in Manhattan?” she asked.

 

Desperate to get the subject away from his ogling, Steve said, “I did, yeah.”  He shrugged.  “A boarding house.  Not the Ritz, but it’ll do.”

 

“I’m glad,” she said, smiling.

 

He ducked his head, looking away.  He tried to regroup, clearing his throat, looking her in the eye.  “Maybe we could get another cup of coffee sometime,” he said.  “I mean, after work, if you’re free.”

 

“I’d like that,” she said seriously.

 

He nodded, smiling.  But then he took a deep breath.  “Of course, I don’t want to intrude if you have a fella.”

 

She pursed her lips together.  “I’m not seeing anyone,” she said, then quickly added, “yet.”

 

He blushed again.

 

* * *

 

There was a knock at her door and Peggy pulled it open, expecting Angie or one of the other girls on the floor.  Instead, she looked at Steve.  She frowned, poking her head out into the hallway and looked.  He was alone.  She motioned for him to come inside.  “How’d you get up here?” she asked.

 

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “I, uh, she sent me up.”

 

Peggy blinked at him.  “Miss Fry?”

 

He nodded.

 

She stared at him, gobsmacked.  “ _ Miss Fry _ sent you up to my room?”

 

“I, uh, might have told her I was your cousin,” he said.  He tried to hide his smile.  “I think Miss Fry thinks I’m harmless.”

 

Peggy arched an eyebrow.  “I never thought I’d say this, but I think Miss Fry lacks imagination.”

 

* * *

 

They had coffee, this time at a small diner a couple blocks from the Griffith.  Afterward, they walked and talked.  She learned that he had spent most of the war working at various publishing houses around the city.  He said he enjoyed the work, but it wasn’t fulfilling.  He wanted to do more, to make a difference.  He’d finally decided to make a career change, before all the GIs were back and it was impossible.  A file clerk at the SSR wasn’t an ideal situation, but it was a stepping stone, hopefully to a life of consequence. 

 

Steve’s boarding house was several blocks from the diner, so they walked by.  Peggy wasn’t terribly impressed with the building, but she supposed on what they were paying him, it was probably not a bad deal.

 

They slowly made their way back to the Griffith.  Peggy chose to say her goodbyes outside, away from the prying eyes of Miss Fry.  She had no desire to disabuse the woman of her notion that they were related.  

 

“I had a lovely evening,” she told him seriously.

 

“Me too,” he said, nodding.

 

She ducked her head, looking at him a little shyly.  “Well, I suppose I will see you at the office tomorrow.”  She gave him a dazzling smile.  “Goodnight, Steve.”

 

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

 

He didn’t try to kiss her, which didn’t surprise her.  And to her own shock, she wasn’t overly disappointed.  She felt full to bursting with the promise of things to come.

  
END CHAPTER


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy and Steve fell into a routine.  Every Tuesday they had coffee after work.  Every Friday they went out. 

 

He showed her around the city.  Neither of them called the outings dates.  And Steve hadn’t so much as tried to hold her hand.  

 

On their fourth Friday together, the weather was atrocious, rain pouring down in sheets.  When Steve knocked, Peggy opened the door wearing a simple white blouse, a navy skirt, and slippers.  

 

Steve arched an eyebrow.  

 

“I thought we could stay in,” she said, taking in his dripping umbrella, and sodden jacket.

 

“I, uh,” he said, looking at her.  “Sure.”

 

He stepped into her room and she closed the door.  Taking off his jacket, he draped it over a straight backed chair situated at a little desk.  Peggy handed him a bath towel that he used to pat himself dry.

 

“For future reference,” she said gently, “I would have literally taken a rain check.  I hate that you had to slog through this downpour.”

 

He shook his head, giving her the smile she knew so well.  “It was no problem.  Beats being stuck in my room back at the boarding house.”

 

Peggy returned the smile, glad for his reassurance.  She felt the same way.  When the weather had taken a turn, she seriously considered that he might not make it over.  The thought left her incredibly disappointed.  She knew it was forward, suggesting an evening in at her place, but it wasn’t like they had a lot of options.  Peggy turned on the radio.  Steve was standing there in the middle of the room awkwardly.

 

“Sorry,” she said, “but the only spot big enough for two to sit is the bed.”

 

He shook his head, playing it off.  “Yeah, no,” he said, “my place is the same way.”  He looked around, cautiously taking a seat on the bed.  “Only nowhere near as nice.”

 

“Well,” she said, wandering to the bed and sitting down, “your place doesn’t have Miss Fry guarding your virtue, so that’s its own kind of perk.”

 

He smiled at her.  “True,” he said, “I’m sure you pay a premium to have Miss Fry looking after you so closely.”

 

“Well, not too closely,” she said, “considering she lets you up here.”

 

Steve snorted.  

 

Peggy looked at him, brow furrowed.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“You know,” he said awkwardly, “Miss Fry has eyes.  She knows a beautiful dame like you isn’t going to be interested in a guy like me.”

 

Peggy’s frown intensified.  “So,” she asked cautiously, “what have our twice a week dates been, if not dates?”

 

“I - “ he stopped and stared at her.  “You thought they were dates?”

 

“I did.”

 

“I - “ he stopped again.  “ _ Oh _ .”  He opened his mouth to say something and then snapped it shut.  He frowned.  “So ...  _ dates _ ?” he said, looking at her.

 

“Dates,” she confirmed, nodding slowly.  “Unless you don’t want - “

 

“No, I want,” he said firmly, nodding.  “I definitely want.  I just ...  _ dates _ .”

 

She nodded again and inched closer to him on the bed.  He looked at her, somewhat warily.  And again, it broke her heart.  Because she knew he expected her advance to be some kind of joke.  She didn’t know how to reassure him she was serious other than to put her words into action.  She decided to go for broke, leaning in toward him.  

 

She was pretty sure he stopped breathing as she gently pressed her lips to his.  His lips were exactly as she remembered, soft and lush.  But he didn’t kiss her back.

 

Slowly, she pulled back looking at him.  “Did I embarrass myself?” she asked.

 

He blinked at her owlishly and then shook his head taking a deep breath.  “No,” he said.  “No.”

 

Smiling she leaned in again and this time his lips were yielding.  With a sigh, he pressed into her and she could have wept with relief.  She lifted her hand, gently cupping his cheek, slotting her mouth against his, deepening the kiss.  He gasped, parting his lips and she tentatively touched her tongue just inside his upper lip.  He groaned, his hands moving restlessly.  He ended up with his hands grasping her arms, one at her shoulder, the other at the elbow of her hand that was cupping his cheek.

 

This was completely unlike the frantic kiss she planted on Steve before he hopped aboard the Valkyrie.  This was a slow exploration, tentative and sweet.  Steve followed her lead, but he was always slightly hesitant, slightly cautious.  He only ever went so far as imitating what she was doing, but never pushing farther.  When Peggy finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard.

 

“A date,” she said, giving him a small smile.

 

He smiled back and some of his wariness was gone.  “A date,” he confirmed.

 

Peggy made an attempt to be a hostess.  She pulled out the coldcuts and cheese she’d snuck up from the kitchen earlier, along with the bottle of schnaps.

 

“Schnaps?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

 

“I prefer a nice single malt Scotch,” she admitted, pouring several fingers into a pair of glasses.  “However, neither my finances nor my access to the General’s supply chain are what they once were.”

 

He took the proffered glass and held it up for a toast.  “Schnaps it is.”

 

She clinked her glass against his, laughing before downing half of it in one shot.  He watched with raised eyebrows and followed suit.  The evening was comfortable, companionable.  The schnaps helped, making everything slightly warmer and more relaxed.  Peggy eventually cleared away the plates, making a mental note to sneak them back to the kitchen.  Then she joined Steve on the bed, both of them sitting up with their backs against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of them as they listened to the radio.

 

As they sat there talking, Steve took her hand in his and she threaded their fingers together.  His hands were bigger than hers.  Some of his features were that way, out of proportion with the rest of his body.  She wondered if it wasn’t so much that Erskine’s formula had pushed Steve’s body beyond its natural limits, as it was that the formula helped him achieve the form he should have had, if sickness and lack of resources hadn’t robbed him of the opportunity.

 

Peggy rolled toward him and he mirrored her.  She wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but they were kissing again, long, sensual kisses, one fading into the next.  Little by little, they scooted down until they were lying length to length on Peggy’s bed.  Steve’s hand was at her waist, holding her against him and her feet tangled with his.

 

It had been so long.  So long since she’d been held by a man.  And she had wanted  _ this _ man for what felt like an eternity.  His hand at her waist was restless, his fingertips biting into her hip.  It was clear that he wanted more, but he wasn’t going to try anything without her leave.  She broke the kiss and pulled away ever so slightly.  

 

When she spoke, her lips were nearly brushing against his.  “Steve,” she said quietly, “do you want to touch me?”

 

He swallowed audibly.  “God, yes.”

 

“I want it too,” she said, kissing him again.  She pulled back and started to unbutton her blouse.  

 

Steve reached out, covering her hand.  “Can I - I mean - “

 

She nodded, moving her hand, letting him slip the line of buttons free.  She was breathing too hard and her skin felt too sensitive.  She was hyper aware of every time his fingers brushed against her and she bit down on her bottom lip, watching him.  Her camisole had seen better days, but Steve seemed enthralled.  He pushed her blouse back and she shrugged out of it entirely.  

 

He kissed her again and, for once, took the lead without waiting for her.  His hand skimmed lightly over the satin of her camisole.  She groaned, threading her fingers through his hair, pulling lightly.  Peggy ended up on her back with Steve over her, one of his legs between both of hers.

 

He looked down at her.  His lips were swollen and his cheeks were very rosy.

 

She had never loved him more.

 

She reached up and touched his cheek lightly, her gaze taking in his features.  He was looking at her the same way, slightly dazed and love drunk.

 

He leaned down, kissing her again, his hand skimming over her breast.  She arched into his touch and decided to do some exploring of her own.  Her hands traced over his chest and down, around his waist.  She tugged his shirts free of his trousers and her fingers played lightly over the bare skin at the small of his back.  He immediately arched against her, kissing her harder, tugging at her camisole.  

 

Peggy shimmied, pulling the material over her head and then quickly reaching behind herself and releasing the line of eyelet closures on her brassiere.  Steve had gone very still, his eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he watched.

 

She smiled at him, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his slack mouth as she pulled off her brassiere and dropped it to the floor.

 

“Fucking christ,” he cursed, looking at her.

 

Peggy lay back on the bed.  He stayed exactly as he was, just looking at her.  She took the opportunity to reach over and unbutton his shirt.  That seemed to snap him out of his stupor and he immediately tensed up.  She could almost feel him withdraw.

 

Peggy immediately stopped.  He blushed and she leaned forward and kissed him again, gently, again and again until she felt him relax.  “It’s too much?” she asked.  “We can stop.”

 

“No, I - “ he said and then fell silent, frowning.

 

She kissed him and then nodded.  “Just give me a moment.”  She carefully climbed out of bed.  Standing there, she unzipped her skirt and skimmed it and her slip down her legs to pool on the floor.  She heard Steve swallow.  She removed her garterbelt and stockings slowly, aware that he was watching her with rapt attention.  Finally, she skimmed her panties down her legs and then straightened up, nude, and looked down at him.  His mouth was slightly agape and his gaze raked her up and down.

 

She looked away and went around the room, turning off lights. Once it was dark, she came back to the bed and he helped her pull down the covers.  They climbed in together and she immediately pressed close to him.

 

In the dark, he seemed much less self-conscious.  His touches were bolder.  He cupped her breast in his hand and ducked his head, kissing along the tops of her breasts.  She threaded her fingers through his hair, making encouraging noises.  His lips finally sealed around one of her nipples and her back arched as she gasped, holding him close.

 

Her hands once again went to work on his shirt.  The angle was awkward, but she was determined.  He shrugged out of his button up and she tugged his undershirt over his head.  Both bare from the waist up, they pressed close together, both of them reveling in the sensation.

 

They kissed, long kisses that stole Peggy’s breath away.  Her hands traced over his body and he pushed into her touch, as if he was starved for it.  She rolled him onto his back and came to rest on her side against him.  Her nails scraped lightly down his chest as she kissed him.  Her hand ventured lower, tracing the skin just above the waist of his trousers.  He shifted restlessly and she moved lower.  She skimmed over him lightly, feeling the obvious outline of his erection.  His breath caught and she moved to kiss his jaw, loving the way his stubble scraped against her lips.  

 

She squeezed him lightly through his trousers, biting gently at his earlobe.  Moving lower, she kissed down his neck, to his chest.  His hands moved restlessly, tracing over her shoulders, up along the nape of her neck.  She plucked the buttons of his trousers free and he helped her work the material down until he could kick it away.  

 

She squeezed and stroked him over his shorts and he shuddered, groaning her name.  Tugging at the waistband of his shorts, he helped her slide those off as well.  And then she touched him, skin to skin.  His breath caught and his fingers dug into her shoulder.   “ _ Peggy _ .”

 

She kissed him, hard and hungry, guiding his hands to touch everywhere.  He did, exploring, tracing.  She moved over him, straddling him as she captured his lips again.  “Yes?” she asked.

 

He nodded.  “ _ Yes _ .”

 

She took him in hand, guiding him into place and then sank down on him, groaning at the sensation of him filling her so perfectly.  She took him to the hilt and then sat there, giving them both a moment to adjust.  His hands were at her hips, kneading.

 

Slowly, she began to move on him, touching herself as she did so.  

 

“ _ Fuck _ , Peggy,” he cursed.

 

She arched her back as she rose and fell on him, rubbing herself in time with the rolling of her hips.  

 

“Show me,” he said, covering her hand with his.

 

She took his fingers, pressing them against herself, guiding him to stroke her.  She cursed, picking up the pace as the tension mounted.  She could hear how quickly his breath was coming, she knew he was close.  She urged him to touch her faster, harder.  She bit back a cry as her climax overtook her, aware of him tipping into release right after her.

 

She sat there for a moment, breathing hard and then collapsed forward onto him.  She gave him a sloppy kiss and then moved off him, curling against his side.

 

He pulled her close, his lips against her temple as he said, “Jesus Christ, Peggy.”

 

In the dark, she smiled.  “Indeed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Peggy helped Steve sneak out shortly before dawn.  They were both covered in lovebites and exhausted.  Peggy knew she had whisker burn all over her face and chest.  But neither of them could seem to stop smiling.  

 

He pulled her close, kissing her one last time.  “I’ll be by this afternoon,” he said.  “We’ll go to a picture.”

 

She nodded, biting down on her bottom lip as she watched him sneak down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

True to his word, Steve stopped by in the afternoon.  They had both managed to catch a little sleep while they were apart, not nearly enough, but neither of them were tired.  They found a seat in the back row of the theater and necked like a couple of teenagers.  Peggy would have been embarrassed if she wasn’t so completely enamored of him.

 

After the show, they stopped by a local diner they often frequented.  Peggy loved watching Steve try and keep a straight face as she traced her foot up his leg.  “You are terrible,” he said, leaning across the table toward her.  His serious tone was undercut by the way he was blushing while doing nothing to try and stop her.

 

They took a long walk and then Steve saw Peggy back to the Griffith.  He waved to Miss Fry as he escorted Peggy up the stairs.  They knew with Miss Fry keeping tabs that Steve couldn’t linger, or he’d risk blowing his cover entirely.

 

He kissed her and she reluctantly pulled away.  “You have to go before Miriam comes looking for you.”

 

“Yeah,” he said, distracted, “I should go.”

 

Peggy ended up perched on the edge of her tidy little writing desk, sans underwear.  Steve stood between her legs, driving into her until they were both sweaty and sated.  

 

Afterward, she groaned, kissing him.  “You really have to go.”

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “I’ll go.”  He kissed her again.

 

* * *

 

 

On Sunday, Steve had planned to take Peggy to Coney Island, but the weather was awful again.  Steve managed to sneak her up to his room at the boarding house.  Truthfully, it was even worse than Peggy had expected, with peeling paint, windows that wouldn’t open.  But it did have a bed.

 

They took time with one another, carefully cataloging the touches and kisses the other liked.  It was decadent, leisurely, to spend an entire day in bed together.  But Peggy wouldn’t have had it any other way.  She had waited so very long for him.

 

* * *

 

 

Monday at the office was more of a challenge than Peggy had anticipated.  She had never had a fully consummated office romance.  The closest she had come was her wartime flirtation with Steve.

 

She underestimated how difficult it was to keep her hands to herself, now that she knew the touches that would drive him wild.  But she persevered.  She had no desire for either of them to be a laughing stock, which was exactly what would have happened if those juveniles found out they were together.

 

So she and Steve were - mostly - professional, barring the occasional file room kiss.  They worked together well, now more than ever, since the sexual tension was at least a known quantity.  He didn’t even bother to pretend he wasn’t looking down her shirt.

 

* * *

 

 

There were a tense couple of days later that month.  Peggy was late.  

 

It, thankfully, turned out to be stress and her monthly visitor arrived two days past due.  They both breathed a sigh of relief, vowing to be more careful in the future.

  
END CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

Peggy moved off of Steve, pulling her dress back into place.  He disposed of the condom and then snagged her panties off the floorboard.  He handed them to her, watching her wiggle into them.  

She sighed, glancing in the rearview mirror, trying to fix her hair.  Giving up, she leaned back, looking at him.  “One of us needs to get a raise.”

He snorted.  “I don’t think that’s in the cards for either of us.”

She made an unhappy noise.  “We need a place we can be together without threat of eviction or being arrested for public indecency.”

“Not a fan of the wheels?” he asked.

“Cheeky bugger,” she said, frowning at him.  “They’re lovely.  Who did you borrow them from?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Oh lord, who?”

“Krezmynski.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Look it, was that, or wait until next weekend when Ms. Fry is out of town.”

She huffed, but Steve knew he was right.  She hadn’t wanted to wait any more than he had.  It had been a week since he snuck her into his room at the boarding house.  They’d narrowly missed being busted by his next door neighbor.

Scooting closer to him on the bench seat, she rested her head on his shoulder.  Steve nudged her to tilt her head back for a kiss.  He still had no idea how he lucked into this relationship, but he wasn’t about to question it.

 

* * *

 

Peggy looked over at Steve.  They were walking through Central Park.  She wanted to loop her arm through his, but refrained.  He’d never brush her off, of course.  But public displays of affection between them tended to attract unwanted attention and while it didn’t really bother her, she knew it bothered Steve.  As she watched, he smoothed his hair across his forehead for what must have been the tenth time.  

“Are you going to tell me what you’re fretting about?” she asked.  “Or am I going to be forced to guess?”

He looked at her, frowning.  “I’m not ... fretting,” he said sourly.

“Yes you are.”

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.  He looked up at the skyline.  “Bucky was discharged from the Army.  He'll be home tomorrow,” he said.

“And your best friend being discharged is bad?” Peggy ventured, wondering if Bucky was being dishonorably discharged.  It wasn’t unthinkable.

“No,” Steve said quickly.  “No, it’s not bad.  It’s just ... he wants to meet you,” he said awkwardly.  “Meet the dame who managed to catch me,” Steve said, blushing slightly, clearly repeating Bucky’s words.

“Ah,” Peggy said.  “Alright.  So when do I get to meet him?”

Steve frowned.  “He thought maybe we could all catch a show this weekend.”

“I should be free,” Peggy said.  “Especially since Jack declared that broads don’t have to work weekends.  Wanker.”

“Great,” Steve said, with forced enthusiasm.  “It’s all set.”

 

* * *

 

Peggy was screwing the back on her earring when there was a knock at her door.  She opened it, expecting to see Steve, but it was Angie.  “Ya got visitors, English.”

Peggy frowned.  Steve didn’t typically wait in the lobby.  

“The guard dog barely let Steve’s friend across the threshold,” she said.  “Nice lookin’ fella.  Got them ... bedroom eyes, if ya follow my meaning.”

“Yes, Angie, thank you,” Peggy said dryly.  “I get your meaning.  And trust me, I’m sure scores of women could attest to how those eyes look in an actual bedroom, or alley, or the backseat of a car.”

She frowned.  “Love ‘em and leave ‘em type, eh?”

Peggy paused.  “He was,” she said.  “I’m not sure if the war changed that or not.”  So many other things were different about this world that Peggy was willing to concede that Bucky Barnes might not be quite as much of a lothario as the version she knew.  

Grabbing her jacket, Peggy descended the stairs.  Steve’s eyes found hers the second she walked into the lobby.  Bucky took a while longer.  He was standing at Steve’s side, eyeing all the women in the hotel.  His gaze finally lighted on her and he smiled.  She walked up to him and Steve.

“Well, hello,” Bucky said, turning on the charm.

“Uh, Buck,” Steve said, “this is Peggy.”

Peggy held out her hand.  “Nice to meet you.”

Bucky took her hand, but rather than shaking it, he held it lightly in his grasp.  He looked from Peggy to Steve and back to Peggy.  Seeming to remember himself, he shook his head.  “Uh, Sergeant James Barnes at your service, ma’am.”

Peggy gave him a tight, polite smile, pulling her hand from his grasp.  She turned to Steve, beaming.  “So what show are we going to?”

“There’s a new Hitchcock flick playing,” Bucky said.

“Oh,” Peggy said, never taking her eyes off Steve.  “Sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

Steve sat in the middle, with Peggy on one side and Bucky on the other.  Peggy twined her fingers through Steve’s, being obvious, but not obnoxious.  Bucky kept glancing at them, but Peggy ignored him.  She knew, that unless there was some massive difference in Steve and Bucky’s friendship, that hadn’t existed in her world, Bucky would soon back off.  When Steve had made it clear he was interested in Peggy, and she made it clear she was interested in him, Bucky respected that boundary.

After the movie, they went out to dinner.  This Bucky hadn’t been captured and tortured by Zola, but it was clear that the war had changed him.  Possibly for the better.  He had an easy charm and competency about him that seemed far less forced than the haunted soldier she had known.

Peggy excused herself to powder her nose and she took her time returning to the table.  She wasn’t eavesdropping on purpose, but Bucky’s voice tended to carry.  So did Steve’s for that matter.

“Ya nailin’ ‘er?” Bucky asked.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve chided.  She could picture him shaking his head as his cheeks flamed.

“Well, are ya?” Bucky pressed.  

“Bucky, she’s not like that.  She’s not one of your girls.  She’s a lady.”

“You’re not really denying it,” Bucky said.  “Come on.  Did you finally do it?  She looks like she could show you the ropes.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Steve demanded, voice deathly calm.

“I, uh, nothin’,” Bucky said, his tone placating.  “Nothin’.  She seems like a hell of a catch, Steve.  That’s all I meant.”

There was a silence and Peggy was certain Steve was glaring a hole in Bucky’s head.  She took the opportunity to return to the table.  The rest of their dinner passed without incident.  Afterward, they caught a train to Brooklyn.  It was Saturday night and Coney Island was packed with people.

Peggy watched Bucky, wondering how he would handle the crowds and chaos.  He seemed uncomfortable, but not enough that she thought they should leave.  They rode several rides and Bucky showed off his sharpshooting skills at one of the games.

Eventually, they found a bench and sat down.  Steve went to get sodas, leaving Peggy and Bucky alone.

Bucky stretched his arms out along the back of the bench, causing Peggy to sit forward, to avoid him.  “So, Peggy,” he said.  “How long you been in the States?”

“Off and on since the start of the war,” she said.  “Most recently I moved here in October of last year.”

Bucky nodded.  “So you’re with the same outfit as Steve?”

“The SSR, yes,” Peggy said.  “I’m an Agent.”

“So are you planning on staying in the States for long?”

She looked at him, frowning.  “I’m currently appointed to the SSR’s home office.  There are other offices, but most are in the US.  They do have Agents abroad, however.”

“But if you had to pick,” Bucky pressed, “would you stay here?”

“Sergeant Barnes, are you trying to determine if I’m angling for citizenship?”

He shrugged rudely.  “Maybe.”

“As flattering as your line of questioning is, Sergeant, I regret to inform you that Steve has no particular status of which I am attempting to take advantage.”

He looked at her.  “So Steve doesn’t have anything you want?”

“I didn't say he doesn't have anything I want.  What I said was that he doesn't have anything I am trying to exploit.”  She took a deep breath and forced it out slowly.  “Neither Steve nor I are compelled to explain our relationship to you or anyone else.  What is between us, is between us, and you have no part of it.  It’s not for you to understand or approve of.”

A slow grin spread across his face and he suddenly seemed warmer.  He nodded.  “Good,” he said.  He turned away and then on impulse turned back to her.  “I just ... look out of him, ya know,” he said.  “Sometimes when things seem too good to be true, they are.”

She rolled her eyes.  “No one would say I’m too good to be true, Sergeant Barnes.”

He shrugged.  “Steve might.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky was staying in Brooklyn, with his aunt.  So Peggy and Steve left him there and headed back to Manhattan.  Steve managed to sneak up to Peggy’s room undetected.

Hours later, they were twined together beneath the covers, skin still sweat damp.

“So,” Steve said, “what did you think of Buck?”

She rolled over onto her back and looked at Steve fondly.  “He seems like he cares for you a lot.  He’s looking out for you.”

Steve frowned.  “Did he try to scare you off, or get under your skirt?”

She laughed.  “The former.”  She smiled at Steve.  “But I don’t scare easily.”

He smiled.  “I’m pretty sure I knew that about you, Carter.”

Peggy rolled toward him, capturing his lips in a kiss.

 

END CHAPTER


End file.
